Horsefeathers
by Kitt Chaos
Summary: Set in the same universe as 'Collateral Damage'. Patience Morgan returns in a minor role. Seto Kaiba is having a bad day. Could the mad inventor of the game of Duel Monsters be responsible for the string of mishaps afflicting Kaiba? If so, why?
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: Yu-Gi-Oh! and all its characters are the legal and intellectual property of Mr. Kazuki Takahashi. I claim no rights with my story and merely wish to express my appreciation as a fan of Yu-Gi-Oh! by writing it.

**Horsefeathers**

**Chapter One -- Mount Parnassus**

Seto Kaiba sat at his desk in his office, and fumed. This was supposed to be one of the better days at work. Kaiba Corporation had recently posted record-breaking figures for the last fiscal quarter, the company stock had correspondingly increased in value, and yesterday's board meeting had been one of the most enjoyable and satisfying ones that Seto could recall. He had a lunch meeting with a new client scheduled today that he very much looked forward to, as it would be exploring potential medical applications for Kaiba Corporation's hologram and imaging technology. Such an association could forever quell the idea that Kaiba Corporation, under Seto's leadership, was nothing more than a 'glorified gaming company' as one business magazine liked to claim.

Glaring in disfavor at the report displayed on the computer screen set into his desk, Seto picked up the phone and rang his secretary. "Let's straighten this benefits mess right now, Ms. Wright. Get one of the executives from the health insurance company and Mr. Paulson from accounting on the phone, then buzz me in for the conference call."

Seto was careful placing the phone back in its cradle. It would not be seemingly for him to slam it in place, no matter how irritated he was.

"Roland?"

"Yes, sir?" As always, his bodyguard and aide was quick to respond, crossing the spacious office to approach Seto's desk.

"I want your department to work closely with Legal to find and bring Mr. Smith to justice. No one embezzles from my company and gets away with it." Seto delivered his order in a calm, low, dangerous tone.

"Yes, sir. The Legal Department lodged formal complaints with the police and has already been contacted by the prosecutor's office. Mr. Smith's access to his bank accounts and credit cards has been blocked and an arrest warrant has been issued. I am confident he will be found and dealt with to the fullest extent of the law in a very short amount of time."

"Good." Seto nodded and waited until Roland took his customary place by the door and out of his direct sight-line before raising his hand to his temple and trying vainly to ease the tension gathered there with a vigorous rub.

The phone on his desk buzzed. For once regretting his secretary's usual efficiency, Seto took a deep centering breath and allowed the phone to signal three more times before he picked up the handset.

"Mr. Kaiba, I have Mr. Allen from the Advantage Health and Life Insurance Company and Mr. Paulson from our accounting department on the phone," Ms. Wright stated.

"Thank you, Ms. Wright. That will be all for now," Seto replied, waiting until a faint click told him that his secretary had left the conference call. "Gentlemen, let's get this tedious, but important, situation sorted out. It is not satisfactory for my employees to be without health coverage."

--------

"Okay, talk me through it," Seto commanded. "How did this happen?" Roland and Ms. Wright sat in the chairs in front of his desk.

"From what we gather, Mr. Smith started embezzling funds from Kaiba Corporation's health insurance premiums eight months ago. He was careful to target those employees who had never used their health insurance plans since they were generally healthy and not likely to try to use their benefits -- that way he could avoid being discovered. His tactic worked and he amassed a significant amount of money in a new bank account with these diverted funds," Ms. Wright tapped the screen of her hand-held computer with her stylus, sending the figure to the computer screen on Seto's desk. He raised an irritated eyebrow at it.

"Where did he slip up?"

"He got greedy, diverting all of the premium payment for health and life insurance coverage for the entire company this renewal cycle."

Having just hammered out an emergency stop-gap measure with the insurance company to cover his employees until the irregularity could be remedied, Seto knew it was a considerable sum of money.

"Roland, your Security Division works by the book on this one. I don't want any loopholes this peon and his lawyer can use as a 'technicality' to avoid paying for his crime."

"Understood, sir."

"Ms. Wright, obviously we are in need of a new benefits coordinator. Pull any applications you have on file and have them ready for me for this afternoon. After I review them, I'll let you know if we need to advertise to fill the position."

"Yes, sir."

"Thank you, Ms. Wright, that will be all."

"Patience, ahem, Ms. Morgan used to be a benefits coordinator before you hired her, sir," Roland noted after the secretary had left.

"I recall that, Roland. However," Seto pinned Roland with an assessing, slightly unnerving blue stare. "Ms. Morgan is far more valuable to me in her position heading the Community Impact Division. You be certain to let that slip into the conversation the next time you take her out to dinner."

"Sir?!" Roland was startled to realize a subtle sort of humor glinted in Seto's eyes. "Yes, sir." Roland wondered how Seto had known he was seeing Patience, and exactly when his boss had realized Roland was attracted to her. _Knowing him, probably before I did,_ Roland acknowledged to himself ruefully.

"A new benefits coordinator, an honest one, will be far easier to find than someone with Ms. Morgan's -- unique experiences," Seto noted, recalling that some of her 'unique experiences' were visited upon her by his own willful blindness to Kaiba Corporation's impact on the ordinary people of Domino City. "She's happy heading the CID, right?" Seto asked, much to Roland's surprise.

"Yes, sir. Very much so," Roland replied softly.

"Then, there's no reason to change that. We will find someone else," Seto decided, dismissing the problem for the moment. "I have to finish tweaking this Image Monster program before meeting Dr. Stevens for lunch in --" Seto glanced at the time, "just over two hours."

--------

"Roland, have the limousine brought around in twenty minutes. It's nearly time for me to leave," Seto commanded as he used a micro-welder to finish sealing up the edges of a gold-toned Image Monster card.

"Yes, sir."

"Oh, and I need you to hand-deliver this to the department head who requested I enhance the basic programming of this particular IM card," Seto added as an afterthought.

"Of course, sir." Roland accepted the card and waited patiently for the department head's name.

"I'm sure Ms. Morgan will be pleased to see you before her meeting with the mayor today," Seto stated evenly.

"Of course, sir," Roland replied in exactly the same, deadpan tone. Seto snorted and waved the bodyguard on.

Roland paused in the doorway. "Should I return to accompany you to the restaurant, sir?"

"What is Security's current alert level for 'the dragon'?" Seto asked as he leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms behind his head.

Roland started. "Is there anything you don't know, sir?" he asked almost under his breath.

"Probably not," Seto replied with a smirk.

"The 'dragon' is currently at the 'yellow' alert status level, sir." Roland finally answered.

"High or low?" Seto asked.

Roland stared in disbelief. "Low, sir."

"So, if I were to go to a restaurant that Security has fully vetted as 'safe' as recently as earlier this week, you anticipate no danger, correct?" Roland nodded reluctantly. "Take the afternoon off, Roland," Seto sat forward abruptly. "This 'dragon' will be okay without his 'close protection agent' for one day."

"But..."

"I'm concerned that having you present will alarm this potential client, Roland," Seto admitted. "They are a small up-and-coming medical research firm. I don't want them to be wary about entering into a business relationship with Kaiba Corporation."

"As you wish."

Roland shook his head ruefully as he entered the elevator to deliver the IM card to Patience. The fact that Roland was technically an executive, as he was the head of the Security Division of Kaiba Corporation, didn't quite take the sting out of the term 'bodyguard'. His skills were far more advanced than simply throwing his own body between his principle and any sort of deadly threat, as seemed to be implied by the term. He was surprised that Seto Kaiba had learned of his dislike for the word, and even more surprised that Mr. Kaiba had opted to use the term Roland preferred, close protection agent. Reflecting that his employer was an obscure and complex man, despite his youth, Roland wasn't surprised to sense his loyalty to the man, already high to begin with, ratcheting up a notch.

--------

"Greta, are you ready, yet?"

"We are on a mission, sister. Remember to use the code-names," Teutonic blue eyes blazed fanatically. "We are the Norns weaving our pattern of fate and death around our target, Skuld!"

"Yeah, yeah. It's a stupid and predictable motif for an assassination team," the younger woman, 'Skuld', complained.

"I don't care if you like it or not, as long as our target is taken care of. Have you finished placing the charges?"

"I'm just waiting for Gre--, Verdandi to calibrate the timing triggers and confirm the blast radius," Skuld replied.

"Feh. I would not worry about collateral damage quite so much!"

"We know, Urd. But, if we don't, we won't be as effective the next time. People will be alerted to us, making our mission that much harder."

"It's bad enough we are unlawfully cutting short the life-thread of the driver," Verdandi chimed in softly.

"Are you being weak and moral again?" Urd demanded.

"No. Here are your triggers, Skuld. It's unfortunate, that is all."

"I'm being more than kind permitting you to set the explosion here, away from 'innocent' people," Urd preened.

"Yes, sister."

Skuld returned from laying and attaching the detonators to the bomb charges. "Time?"

"At my mark, twelve-ten," Urd replied. "And, mark!"

Skuld activated the master timer detonator at her sister's mark. "It's time to go. In ten minutes, as his limousine crosses this point, Seto Kaiba will be blown apart. Such a pity he did not think to armor-plate his vehicles!"

"A pity? A boon, as far as we are concerned! It makes our job that much easier and less messy."

"Speaking of messy, we should leave. We only have nine minutes left to clear the blast area and establish our presence far away from this -- unfortunate accident." Urd noted.

"True enough. Come, my sisters! Let us ride forth dispensing divine justice upon all!" Urd called out.

"Sometimes I worry about you, sister," Verdandi mused just under her breath.

--------

On his way to the restaurant, Seto glanced down at the screen of the small personal computer in his hands. "What do you think you are doing, Pegasus?!" he demanded, clearly annoyed by what was displayed on the screen.

Seto felt the beginnings of a headache forming just behind his eyes. Yes, Pegasus, the President of Industrial Illusions, _was_ the creator of Duel Monsters (which was not only one of Seto's favorite pastimes, but also the basis for the source of much of the wealth generated by his company), but the man himself was a huge thorn in Seto's side. First there was Pegasus' ridiculous fixation on cartoons. Seto hated the Toon deck Pegasus favored above all others. Then there were Pegasus' speech patterns and mannerisms, particularly his affected 'Kaiba-boy' insult. Since their crossing decks in Duelist Kingdom, Pegasus cropped up now and again in Seto's life, almost like a bad penny. It looked like the mad business man was bored, for it seemed he wanted Seto to get upset at him.

It appeared that Industrial Illusions had managed to gain a controlling percentage of Ormosil Electronics, a small business that supplied some of the core components for many of Kaiba Corporation's most popular products. O.E. had just tripled the cost of those components -- no doubt at Pegasus' behest. Seto knew that Pegasus knew such a tactic was nothing more than an annoyance to Kaiba Corporation, so it was simply Pegasus' twisted, business-oriented way of indirectly needling Seto.

Seto was keying a command into his compact, but powerful, computer when he was suddenly jostled back, then forward violently. He looked up in alarm and realized his limousine had been rear-ended.

"Just lovely. This day keeps getting better and better," he muttered before knocking on the window between his compartment and the driver's, motioning the man to go and get the insurance information from the idiot who'd hit them. He consulted his watch. "I'm going to be late. I hate being late."

--------

He was almost relieved that Dr. Stevens was evidently running late, too. Seto followed the maître d' to his customary table and accepted the overtly deferential treatment of his customary servers. He regretted leaving his laptop in the limousine as he waited for the doctor from Bio-holo Diagnostics. He knew he could summon the limo with a phone call, but calculated that the driver was just now pulling into the mechanic's garage, and it would be inefficient.

Unaccustomed to having unplanned, unstructured time like this on his hands, Seto was not quite certain what to do. He didn't want to start his meeting off on the wrong foot by ordering before Dr. Stevens arrived, so he settled for drinking a cup of tea. Idly, he gazed around the room, noting the other people already dining and those now arriving. He watched as the mayor of Domino City held the door for the person accompanying him and recalled an important detail from the company executive calendar. Today was the meeting between the mayor and...

Patience Morgan smiled in a pleased but quiet way as the maître d' held the chair for her, seating her before turning to assist the mayor. Seto could tell the exact moment the head of his Community Impact Division spied him, from the tiny start she gave as she casually scanned the room. He'd known about her lunch meeting with the mayor, of course, even though she'd not known that he would be here, as there was no reason for her to know his activities. Seto reflected that at least now he'd have something to occupy his attention while he waited for his luncheon companion to arrive.

Patience waited until the mayor had partially turned toward the waiter who was taking his order to gaze about the dining room again in a seemingly idle fashion. It was so aimless an action Seto was certain no one else realized she'd used it to look across the room at her employer. She smiled, a genuinely warm smile, toward no one in particular, then slightly, but deliberately, bowed her head acknowledging her employer's presence. Mindful of the other eyes in the room, Seto did not smile in response, instead opting to wait a moment before lifting his teacup for another sip, using the action to mask his nearly infinitesimal return bow of acknowledgment. There would have been nothing untoward if Patience had walked over to greet him directly, but, Seto realized leaving the mayor's presence to do so could be construed as an insult by the politician.

He couldn't catch the conversation between them, but Patience's animated body language clearly showed her enthusiasm for what they were discussing. Ah, yes. R&D wanted to hold a tournament to unveil their latest Duel Monsters imaging advance, as well as formally introduce the IM cards -- Kaiba Corporation's Worst Kept Secret -- as they had come to be known. Seto was certain that was entirely Patience's doing. By virtue of the fact so many key people throughout his and other companies in Domino were 'in the know' early about the IM cards, Kaiba Corporation's approval rating among the other businesses in Domino City had never been so high. Seto wondered how smoothly this tournament would run, as it would be the first one since he had established his Community Impact Division.

Seto went still as Patience pulled out a familiar gold IM card. _Oh, so that's why she wanted..._ he realized. He leaned forward a bit to more clearly watch the mayor's reaction to his morning's work.

It was the mayor's first time seeing an Image Monster card. He seemed entranced as the tiny Judge Man hologram formed and floated above the card. Patience said something to the mayor, evidently asking the man to hold his hand out. Seto hid his grin as Patience picked the card up, mindful not to disrupt the hologram, and placed it in the mayor's hand. She looked up at the mayor with a completely impish look and said a single word.

"Ribbon," Seto muttered, having programmed that word himself. The mayor grinned like a child as the tiny Judge Man moved. Seto couldn't see it from this distance, but he knew exactly what happened when that key word was uttered. A tiny red ribbon appeared, floating about waist-high before the Judge Man. The hologram produced a pair of scissors from a pocket, reached forward with them in his right hand, and cut the ribbon. A fanfare, then a cheer accompanied the actions before the Judge Man took a bow.

Well, Seto decided, glancing down at his watch, at least it hasn't been a total waste. He'd waited nearly an hour, which he wasn't happy about, but it wasn't often he was able to witness someone enjoy his work first-hand as he just did with the mayor. The quiet moment of gentle satisfaction was rudely shattered as he was suddenly assaulted by slimy sensations of heat, ice, and oily slickness pouring all over him. A china plate plopped unceremoniously onto the table in front of him while a few others exploded into shards against the floor all around him.

"What the hell?!" Seto exclaimed as he jumped up. A waiter squealed and jumped back, holding his now-empty serving tray before him like a shield.

"I'm -- I'm sorry, Mr. Kaiba, sir! I must have tripped and... and... uh..."

Seto, dripping from the apparently very messy meal someone had ordered, clenched his fists and counted to ten in three languages before trusting himself to open his mouth again. "Get out of my sight. And alert Mr. Germain that I require his presence immediately."

Seto didn't mind being the center of attention -- that is, he didn't mind when it was because he'd won a duel, scored a business coup or otherwise had reason to take a moment to bask in the limelight. He was certain he'd heard a few snickers floating through the dining room at the waiter's mishap, and even now, some faces struggled to contain smiles while most of the eyes turned his way lit with varying degrees of humor, both benign and malicious, at his predicament.

The mayor's eyes held a rueful sort of amusement, as he'd been in a similar situation about a year ago. Seto noticed that the mayor was paying close attention to his demeanor and actions. Nor did it escape his notice that Ms. Morgan had tensed in a sort of agony of indecision. It was clear to him that she wanted to approach and offer whatever help she could, but equally clear that she wasn't sure if her help would be appreciated.

Seto imagined how that would appear -- his middle-aged employee, a female one at that -- approaching to help him because he got food spilled all over him -- behaving like some sort of well-meaning mother hen. No, he didn't need people to believe for even a minute that he couldn't handle this situation on his own, no matter how embarrassing it was. He was Seto Kaiba; he didn't need anyone to 'rescue' him from embarrassment.

"Whoever was going to have the --" Seto looked down at his ruined suit jacket, "linguine in marinara sauce from the looks of it, will evidently have to wait a while longer," he announced in his driest, most matter-of-fact voice.

A chuckle rippled through the room at that, the smiles and looks aimed his way turned sympathetic, and after a moment the people went back to their conversations and meals. Seto noted the mayor nodding once, evidently approving of how he handled the situation, while Patience relaxed back in her chair with a smile, returning her attention entirely back to the mayor.

Mr. Germain approached with quick steps and a sincerely remorseful look on his face. "Mr. Kaiba, I am so sorry! That such a thing happened is inexcusable. I assure you, Cedric will be disciplined. Please, follow me." The maître d' led Seto from the dining room to his own office.

"What can I do to make this up to you, Mr. Kaiba? Mr. Markham has already been notified. He's on his way here, now."

Seto raised an eyebrow at that. Summoning the owner of the restaurant seemed a bit excessive for spilled food.

"He insisted," Mr. Germain replied to Seto's look. "He's horrified this happened to you in his establishment. I am, too. What can I...?"

Seto looked down at the dripping mess ruining his suit from the lapels of his jacket to the knees of his slacks. "For now, all I want to do is get this -- mess -- off of me."

"Of course! Of course! Permit me..."

Despite Mr. Germain's best efforts, giving Seto his own shirt and jacket, clean, pressed, and waiting for the change of attire for the evening shift, there was nothing to be done about Seto's slacks. No one on staff was tall enough to similarly lend Seto the slacks from their evening uniform, and the tomato base for the food spilled over him had already set dramatic and permanent stains into the light-colored fabric.

"This won't do," Seto muttered, staring at his reflection in the mirror in Mr. Germain's office.

"No, sir," Mr. Germain agreed miserably.

"If Dr. Stevens should arrive, detain him until I return," Seto ordered before leaving the restaurant by the back door. He seemed to recall there being a men's clothing store a short distance further along the street.

"Sir! I could send someone..." Mr. Germain called after him. He sighed as he realized that the young man probably needed to get away from the restaurant for a moment to regain his emotional equilibrium. He'd never interacted with Mr. Kaiba outside of his duties in the restaurant, but it seemed to him that, as he was the CEO of a major company, Seto Kaiba preferred to do things for himself, rather than have them done for him.

"It's probably for the best," he muttered, taking a final look at his own appearance in the mirror before going to resume his place near the front door. He couldn't do anything about what had already happened, but he could make certain that, if Dr. Stevens showed, he did detain him as Mr. Kaiba asked.

Seto's memory had served. Unfortunately, the store was closed. He refrained from gaping at it in surprise. It was the middle of the day, the posted hours indicated the store should be open, yet it was locked. There was no notice of some emergency that could explain why the store was closed. Walking a little further, Seto discovered two other stores that would have sufficed, but both were also inexplicably closed. Finally, he found a clothing shop that was still open.

Seto did not let the trepidation he felt slow him down. This clothing store catered to people -- well, to people his own age. Since people his age didn't normally run massive corporations, the clothes were significantly more casual than what he was looking for. Still, a glance at the stains decorating the front of his legs assured him this was the right thing to do.

Ten minutes later, he was fit to be tied. Sure, the black jeans fit well and would work under the borrowed jacket, but the shirt that Mr. Germain had loaned him had been torn beyond usefulness by an over-eager staffer. The only shirt in the place that fit him had a cartoon character on it. What was worse, the particular character was the one Seto despised the most -- Funny Bunny.

"Pegasus!" Seto ground out between clenched teeth, half-wondering if the mad businessman had somehow orchestrated the string of mishaps that had led him here. Seeing no way around it, Seto bought the jeans and the hideous t-shirt, buttoning the borrowed jacket over the detested rabbit. One of the animated lagomorph's ears was still visible over the crossed lapels. Crossing his arms in an attempt to conceal the rabbit and scowling at anyone who looked at him too long, Seto walked back in the direction of the restaurant, and wished the clothing store carried Triple-Ts. If they had, he'd have gotten...

In his mind's eye, Seto imagined how cool that would look -- if he wore a suit with the jacket open to show a rampant, roaring Blue-Eyes White Dragon instead of a boring business shirt.

Stars suddenly danced across his vision before a wave of blackness towered above him and smashed his awareness to bits against a shore of unconsciousness. He was not aware of it, but he crumpled in a graceless heap at the foot of...

"So nice of you to drop in, Kaiba-boy!"

------------------

Author's notes --

I didn't think I'd be writing another 'Seto Kaiba in his business world story' – silly me. The next chapter is still gelling. I have an idea what happens, but Kaiba has this way of smirking arrogantly and shredding my outlines, so it might be a while before it's written, edited and ready to be posted.

Chapter Two -- Plain of Aleion

Reviews, comments and constructive criticisms are always welcome! Please feel free to email me if you see something awkward that needs to be clarified or fixed. I need all the help I can get.

* * *


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two -- Plains of Aleion

"Mommy! Mommy! Look at the funny thing I found!" The woman smiled indulgently at her child running toward her as she exchanged a long-suffering glance with the other mother she'd been talking to on the edge of the park playground.

"It's probably a bug that's 'oh so interesting!'" the other mother commented.

"Lucky me!" The mother laughed as her eager little boy grabbed her hand and pulled her toward a seating area set under a small stand of trees.

"Isn't it neat, Mommy? He's got grass-hair!"

'It' was a young man stretched out on his back and apparently sleeping on one of the benches. The woman agreed with her son, the youth had dyed his hair almost the exact shade of green as grass. Picking her child up, in case she had to run, the woman took a few hesitant steps toward the bench.

"Hello?" she ventured. "Are you okay?"

_"Goodness, he's got long eyelashes! Why must God always waste them on boys who don't even need them?"_ the woman thought to herself as she neared. She made certain she was well out of grabbing range.

"Are you okay? Come on, say something!"

The lashes fluttered. A soft groan, followed by a rather uncoordinated attempt to put a hand on his forehead showed her the youth was still among the living. Another groan told her the young man might be regretting that.

"Where...? Where am I?"

"Carol?" The other mother approached.

"Jeremy found someone sleeping on the bench," Carol supplied. "Jeremy thought his hair was neat. Watch; tonight, I'm going to have to explain that mommy doesn't _want_ Jeremy to have green hair, mark my words!"

"I'm sure of it!" The other woman laughed.

"Hey, are you okay?"

He wished the world would stop spinning long enough for him to sit up. The women's voices were soothing, primarily because they didn't seem to be alarmed in the least by his presence. Why would he alarm people? He was...

He was... His mind flailed wildly as vertigo whirled his thoughts away.

The dizziness eased enough for him to open his eyes longer than a second at a time. Leaves. A canopy of leaves spread above him. Gingerly, he tensed, swinging his legs around while lifting his shoulders to assume a sitting position on the bench.

He'd moved too fast as the world started to spin again. A warm hand caught his as another hand braced his shoulder before he could pitch off the bench onto his face.

"Martha!"

"It's okay. You're far enough away he can't catch you and you've got your cell phone," Martha reminded her. "Besides, he's not faking. We don't have to worry that he's some cagey predator."

"How can you tell?"

He noticed that Martha winced just a little before turning her head to look sidelong at her friend. He also noticed that Martha still kept her full attention on him. "Instinct?"

Carol snorted, and pulled out a cell phone. "Yeah, okay. Young man, I do have a cell phone, and we are only two minutes from the nearest police station. So don't try anything funny."

He shook his head as that was the furthest thing from his mind. The action was ill-advised as the world took to swooping and diving disconcertingly around his head again.

"Easy!" Martha ordered. "Look here." She held up her index finger in front of his face, moved it left, then right, forcing his gaze to follow.

"Do you feel nauseous? Like you're going to throw up?"

Not trusting himself to keep his balance if he shook his head again, he responded, "N-no."

"Good. I think you took a knock to the noggin."

Carol snorted again. "Is that the official medical term, Martha?"

"Hush, you!" Martha chided her friend before turning her attention fully to the youth, again. "Your pupils seem to be the same size and they are reacting to light properly, which is good, as is the absence of nausea. Still, you were unconscious, so you should go to the hospital, or at least your doctor, just to be on the safe side."

"N-no. No hospital. I'll be okay. I just want to -- sit here for a few more minutes."

"I'm a nurse and I really recommend..."

"No. Please. I'll be fine."

"How old are you?"

The question stopped him cold. How old was he? He wasn't sure, but a number floated helpfully to the surface.

"Eighteen."

The woman made an exasperated sound. "I can't force you, but you really should go."

"I'll be okay." He turned his head up and smiled as reassuringly as he could manage at her.

"Fine. I'll come back in fifteen minutes to check on you. If anything changes, I'll take you to the hospital myself." She straightened and walked toward her friend.

"How do you know he's not going to...?"

"Carol, you worry too much. He's not on drugs or it could be seen in how his pupils behave."

"They seem kinda glassy-eyed..."

"I think he took a hit to the head that knocked him silly. The softball field is just a little ways away from here. He's probably ashamed to let his buddies know he got hit, or something, and wandered over here."

"Is he going to be okay?"

"Probably. You can never tell with head injury, but he seems coherent enough. Still, it would be wiser if he'd let a doctor check him."

He closed his eyes and smiled as the two women walked slowly out of earshot, bantering the entire while.

"How do you know he's not...?"

Martha nearly growled at her friend in frustration. "I just know, okay? He's got very warm brown eyes. He's not about to hurt someone."

"Sheesh, Martha! His eyes? You think you can tell a good guy from a bad one because of his eyes?!"

"Oh, shut up!"

A frown creased his brow. Brown eyes? That wasn't right. He had blue eyes, didn't he? Blue eyes... Something important about blue eyes... He tried to remember but nothing came to him, just a blank wall that his mind pushed against in a futile waste of effort. He wanted nothing more than to lie down again and drift off to sleep, but the mystery of his eyes nagged at him. Finally, he sighed and leveraged his way to his feet.

He was pleased to notice only a slight, half-hearted attempt on the world's part to dump him on his ass again. He knew he wouldn't need to go to the hospital. He wasn't sure why, but he really didn't want to go there. He decided to walk in the direction away from where the women had gone. No use upsetting their day any further. And, if he were nowhere in sight after the promised fifteen minutes, Martha wouldn't feel obligated to pressure him into seeing a doctor.

Splashing cool water into his face at a sink in a public restroom did wonders to dispel the remaining fog from his brain. After he dried his face on a towel he ventured to gaze into the mirror at himself.

Green hair. He had green hair. It wasn't an entirely unpleasant color or look, but it was inescapably distinctive. Pushing that fact aside, he leaned closer and peered at his eyes.

They _were_ a warm brown. The lashes fringing them appeared dark, so he suspected his natural hair color was brown or black. He tugged at a strand of his hair.

"Why would I go and dye this green?" he asked his reflection. Receiving no answer he stared into the mirror, harder, as if willing his reflection to answer his question. From deep within him the conviction welled up that this was wrong, his reflection was all wrong, but he couldn't seem to conjure even a glimmer of what was 'right'. He started as he realized he didn't know his name. He closed his eyes, hoping that not looking at the 'wrong' reflection might help him recall his name. He cast his mind back, and...

There was nothing. He instinctively knew that he _should_ know his name, but, there was nothing there, just that blank wall in his mind if he tried to recall anything further back than waking up on the bench in the park.

He was going to have to face it as he opened his eyes, again. In the mirror, he was looking at the face -- into the eyes -- of a stranger. He was relieved the woman didn't ask his name. Looking at this unknown reflection in the mirror, realizing that it was his, but not recognizing it at all -- he couldn't escape the fact that he had no idea who he was. He didn't know his name. He didn't know how old he was, not really. He had no idea where he was, or where he should be, or what he was supposed to be doing...

Glancing back at the mirror, he noticed the trapped, nearly frantic expression in his eyes. That wouldn't do. He'd scare people if he looked like that. Perhaps the best thing would be for him to find a police station and explain his situation. Surely they would help him. Perhaps there was a missing person report they could match to him. Somehow they'd be able to identify him, and help him figure out who he was and where he was supposed to be and who he should be with. Did he have a family? Would they help him? Why wouldn't they? Didn't families care for their own? Some ghost of a notion brushed tantalizingly against his mind. _Not all families care for their own. The only one you can always rely on is yourself._

Was this a memory trying to break through -- tell him something? The elusive voice skittered away again, hiding itself deep in the shadows of his mind.

Very well. He wasn't going to be able to simply will his memory back. The police would ask him questions, none of which he could answer. He scowled at his unhelpful reflection and shoved his hands into his pockets.

Paper. There was a piece of paper in his pocket, and something else. Something small, but solid.

Eagerly he pulled the items out. The solid thing seemed almost familiar somehow...

An impression of an image floated just out of the sight of his mind's eye. Every time he tried to focus on it, it darted away, as if frightened by his gaze. He took a deep breath and relaxed, allowing the almost-image to creep closer. Peripherally, he noticed a board, separated into black and white squares. Figures, also in the starkly contrasting black and white, waited patiently in ordered rows. Something inside him told him that each design was capable of a different sort of range of movement. Eager to learn more, he forgot to remain passive and view the image sideways, and tried to focus on one of the figures. The almost-memory, for that's what he thought it was, shattered into glittering shards of black and white.

Dammit. Still... He stared down at the figure in his hand. A voice floated up helpfully from within his mind. _The knight is a deceptively powerful piece, capable of misdirection and oblique attacks._

Knight. Black and white board; black and white pieces. Right... He closed his eyes, concentrating on tracking down just this one bit of knowledge. Chess? Chess. Yes, chess is... chess is...

A game. An important game. And... Somehow...

He knew he was good at it. Very good.

He looked down again at the figure of the knight. It was white marble, a beautifully carved and stylized head of a horse flowing gracefully into an abstract wing motif that formed the base of the piece.

The knight is one of the two pieces that can make an opening move. And the white side usually moves first.

"So, am I playing a game of chess with someone?" he mused aloud. Had he already made the first move, as the white knight, by somehow locking his own memory away? _Misdirection and oblique attacks. _Was that why he had the chess piece in his pocket? To remind him he was playing a game? Or, was it something else?

His thoughts, almost on their own, as if the rules and knowledge of the game existed in a part of his mind unaffected by his memory loss, pondered Black's possible response to White's opening move. A pawn, any one of the eight, could advance either one or two spaces directly ahead. Alternatively, Black could opt to mirror White's move, advancing one of his two knights to any one of the two spaces each knight was able to reach with its odd L-shaped movement, as the knight was the only chess piece capable of 'jumping' over other pieces.

So, if he were playing a game of chess with someone, had he made his first move as White, or was he now pondering his return move as Black? Or was this chess piece just something he carried in his pocket as a good luck charm?

Hoping it would trigger some knowledge about himself as the chess piece had, he unfolded the paper.

Your life is in danger. The police cannot help you. You can find help if you romp in the meadow.

--a friend

What the hell? 'Romp in the meadow?' A wave of irritation, seemingly greater than the nonsense that triggered it, washed over him. The words had been typed, or machine printed, useless for jogging his memory with a familiar piece of handwriting. Folding the note again, he sincerely hoped he hadn't been the one who wrote such folly.

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Author's note --

Yup, it's a hackneyed plot device -- hitting someone over the head to induce amnesia. Please forgive me for relying on it, and please forgive me for making it so light and simple from a medical point of view. I know just enough to know that any time one is rendered unconscious from a blow to the head, it is very serious and should be looked at by a professional.

And, here is where Seto oh-so-helpfully shredded my outline. I thought there'd be three chapters to this story, I could cleverly name them for important places from the greek myth surrounding pegasus, and be done with it.

Oh, no. Dragon-boy isn't going to behave, and this story has at least two chapters I hadn't intended to write that he's being very insistently stubborn about. ::sigh:: I'm going to have to rename all the chapters... ::grumble, grumble:: ...and it was such a cool theme, too... stupid Dragon-boy...

Next Chapter teaser --

I've no idea what it's going to be called, but we should be touching base with Roland and his attempt to find his boss.

Reviews, comments and constructive criticisms are always welcome! Please feel free to email or message me if you see something awkward that needs to be clarified or fixed. I need all the help I can get.


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